


Wonderland

by YoungSoon



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, Other, Psychological Horror, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungSoon/pseuds/YoungSoon
Summary: They always say that life flashes before one's eyes as they pass, but they never say what form this flashback will take and what it will bring.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Everyone
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> ** PLEASE, BE MINDFUL OF ALL TAGS! THANK YOU!**

Hongjoong’s eyelids have never been this heavy before. He has had mornings when he can’t wake up, last night's parties keeping him down, or moments when the sun has shone in his eyes too brightly to keep them open, but never before has it been this hard to pry them open. A great help would be to raise his hands and rub this heavy sleep away, but his arms are as heavy if not heavier, and he can’t move them - not up or down, left or right. This is the oddest sleep he has ever felt.

“Damn it! Damn it! I will be late!” a voice rings from a distance over and over again, loudly echoing around the space around Hongjoong. It comes closer and closer until it is speaking right above him. “Who has enough time to sleep at such times? Aren’t you late anywhere?” the voice asks and Hongjoong finally, but very slowly opens his eyes.

A young man is looking down at him with round, soft cheeks and deep black hair falling over his forehead. He is constantly moving - running in one spot even as he peers down at Hongjoong. He’s wearing a dapper plaid jacket in crimson red and a brown button-down vest underneath it. A blue shirt is buttoned up to the last button and tied in place with a crimson tie. There is a golden chain coming out from the pocket of his vest and leads to a watch in his hand - a beautiful, shiny golden watch. His non-stop moving legs are clad in simple brown pants and end in black boots up to the middle of his calves. However, the boots look extremely worn down and on the verge of falling apart.

“Who are you?” Hongjoong asks, his voice hoarse and raspy as he would not have spoken for days. “Where are you running? And why?” he tries to wrap his head around the young man who is continually moving and the oddly pale green and blue light invading his eyes.

“I’m Jongho, and you should be rushing to the end too. Do you want to be late?” the man asks almost offended, and before Hongjoong can even sit up, he sprints off down the path in the middle of which Hongjoong is lying.

Incredibly slowly, as if his body is weighing a ton, Hongjoong sits up and looks around. This is definitely not the place where he fell asleep. Honestly, he doesn’t even know where he did, but this is not it. There are tall trees stretching so high up that only a small patch of deep turquoise blue sky can be seen. It is hard to tell whether the trees are with needles or leaves so tall they are, hiding what makes their crowns. Between the bark that has colored deep shades of bluish-grey of each one of these giants peak bushes, but even though they are just a couple of meters away, they seem like a blur. As if someone is shaking them constantly or a blur tool has been used on them mercilessly. The green of their leaves is murky and heavily mixed with the everpresent blue. But that is by far, not the most surprising thing.

Gigantic mushrooms and flowers reaching halfway up the enormous trees are everywhere in sight. They do not bear any shades of blue but instead are in vibrant acid tones of yellow, pink and orange. Their stems and leaves are electric green, and even though there is no light coming in through the roof of trees, they seem to radiate their own. It is almost painful to look at them but is as painful and eerie to peer into the blue darkness around them. There isn’t a single place where Hongjoong’s eyes can rest, and he can feel a headache creeping on from the back of his neck.

Adding to the visual overload, he can still hear Jongho’s voice ringing in his ears. Rush to the end? What does that even mean? What will he be late to? A sharp pain hits his head from the left side, and he grabs hold of it with both of his hands, fearing he would split open from such intense pain. Jongho’s voice is tuned out by buzzing and beeping, like the sound of static and flat-line merged in one and decided to rip Hongjoong’s head apart. 

It stops as abruptly as it began, and everything is oddly silent right after. “What the hell…” Hongjoong murmurs under his breath and looks around the eyesore of surrounding he is in. He lets out a deep breath and attempts to stand up, but the first try is nothing more than just that - a try. His limbs are not listening to him one bit, and he falls down three times, and only with fourth is he able to steady himself. It is almost as if his knees wouldn’t be in place, and nothing can hold his body up, but he slowly begins to drag his feet down the path Jongho ran off on.

The fluorescently and toxically bright mushrooms and bell-flowers light the way most strangely - like neon lights in the nightclub districts of a city. Hongjoong often visited those, and he isn’t proud of it, but he could both earn and spend money there, even if he sometimes got into trouble. It has never been anything he couldn't get himself out of. This on the other hand, this Hongjoong has no solution for.

He keeps limping down the pathway until a yellowish blue, sickly-looking fog begins to wrap around his ankles. It starts thin, barely-there, and almost unnoticeable in the bright light or against the already blurred trees. But, the further Hongjoong gets the thicker it gets, crawling up his calves to his weak knees. It doesn’t feel cold or moist as a mist should feel, but it is incredibly heavy and clings onto Hongjoong’s jeans, pulling him down once more, but he stubbornly remains upright. If he would sit down even for a moment, he wouldn’t stand up anymore. That he is sure of.

The road keeps moving forward, the source of the mist close, but as Hongjoong reaches it, he can swear he never imagined it would be this. A circle of fluorescent pink mushrooms with large purple dots on them, from as tall as Hongjoong to halfway up the trees, is what he finds. All of them are seeping out fine, yellow, almost golden dust-like pores that mix with the blue fog rising from the patch of earth the mushrooms are surrounding. There is no scent to it, no taste - just the heavy, clingy feeling that makes Hongjoong move even slower.

He pushes himself to move through the very center of the circle as he has no other way to take. For some reason, he fears walking closer to the blurred bushes. It feels like something is watching him from the navy shadows and flickers in the dark following him. The shadows are inviting, but at the same time, it feels like an invitation Hongjoong doesn’t want to accept. At least not for now. 

As he continues to move forward, he notices a figure slumping against one of the larger, if not the largest mushroom. “Hello?” he calls out, as from afar, even in this mist and poisonous pink light, the figure seems to be another human. “Are you alright?” he asks, and despite his unknown goal being somewhere at the end of this road, he moves to the side to take a closer look at whoever is sitting there. It could be someone else stranded in this odd place, and it could be easier to move forward together.

Going closer, it becomes clear it is a human, by the looks of it a young man, sitting right under the endless shower of yellow pores coming from the mushroom. His eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, tangled blond hair reaching his shoulders, falling out in strands from a messy ponytail. He’s wearing a hugely oversized sky blue sweater with obnoxiously green dots, squares and triangles on it, simple brown slacks, and no shoes - just purple socks. He doesn’t move even when Hongjoong is right next to him. His calm features are incredibly handsome, but even through the mist, it is clear there is something wrong with them.

“Excuse me?” Hongjoong leans closer to check if the man is alright, but he doesn’t expect for his eyes to suddenly open, and his neck snap towards Hongjoong. The latter is so taken aback he stumbles backward and falls on the ground, the mist now reaching his chin and pushing itself in his nostrils. It is not the shock of the movement that sends him to the ground but the man’s eyes. They are definitely the largest ones he has ever seen, the proportion of his face ridiculous as if he would be a lemur of some sort. Even more disturbing is the fact they are bloodshot, red and sickly yellow all at the same time.

Only now does Hongjoong notice how sunken in the mans’ cheeks are, how bony are his hands. “Are you okay?” he blurts out at the large-eyed man who tilts his head to one side and smiles softly. “Why are you here?” Hongjoong asks, and the man just smile and rests his head against the mushroom stem again, closing his bulging eyes.

“Yeosang is here to forget. And so should you,” he murmurs in a deep, raspy voice. “The longer you forget, the easier it is not to remember. But you know that,” he continues and breathes in the yellow dust seeping on top of him. His inhale so deep Hongjoong can see how the dust goes up his nostrils, and on instinct, he puts his hand in front of his nose and mouth. 

“Jongho told me to run,” he murmurs against his palm and scoots away from the man over the uneven ground that seeps out the blue fog like an infected wound would seep out pus.

“But, can you run?” Yeosang asks, and his large eyes turn to Hongjoong, who shakes his head in denial. “Then forget it. Forget it all,” he mumbles, and as those words leave his lips, the same intense pain from earlier hits the left side of Hongjoong’s head, the sound of a flatline and static ringing in his ears. He takes hold of his head once more, but by doing so, he exposes his nose and mouth, inhaling the putrid blue and yellow mist. His head begins to spin out of control, and he does his absolute best to stand up and get out of the cloud around him, but his knees wobble, and he falls back down.

“Damn it! Damn it! I will be late!” rings through the heavy air, and as Hongjoong is about to lose consciousness from everything around him, he gets swooped up from the ground and rapidly carried somewhere. Through barely open eyes, he sees it is Jongho carrying him, rushing forward with a serious expression on his face. Hongjoong could ask so many things, but instead, he allows himself to be taken somewhere.

The next time Hongjoong awakes is a while later. He is still in the mind-boggling forest, but the mist is nowhere in sight, and he can breathe freely. His eyes hurt, so does his head and lungs, but he can seemingly move lighter than before. As he turns his head, he is met with Jongho jogging in place to his right, looking down at Hongjoong on the ground.

“You have to hurry! Why are you not hurrying? You will be late!” He scolds Hongjoong, and the latter blinks slowly at the restless man. He looks him up and down, noticing how the torn-up boots are completely gone from Jongho’s feet, so he’s running barefoot. His feet are bruised and with cuts, bleeding into the toned blue sand underneath, but he is not stopping his movement even for a bit.

“Jongho… stop…” Hongjoong breathes out and tries to stand up or to at least to move to his right and stop him. But as he does so, Jongho begins to move away from him.

“I can’t stop. And you shouldn’t. Hurry up, or you will be late too,” Jongho retorts and turns around, running down the path once more, leaving Hongjoong resting against the greyish bark of a ridiculously tall tree.

“Isn’t he one busy fellow,” a voice unknown speaks from a bush behind Hongjoong, and he instantly moves forward, falling on his fours, away from the tree and the forest line, right under a bright purple bellflower. 

“What an unexpected reaction!” the voice cheers out loudly, and a giggle echoes around the blurred leaves as if they would be hollow as if everything behind the first line of trees would be an endless empty space. Hongjoong can swear he sees red eyes appear above a bush, but they disappear in a second.

Something bright and shiny flickers in the darkness, and the bellflower sways so forcefully Hongjoong moves from under it, crawling backward, his butt dragging on the ground. He looks up at the top of the large, fluorescent flower, and slowly, a figure appears there. It starts with legs, a ripped off shackle around the right ankle, clad in at the ends torn and worn off pants in white and black stripes, reminiscent of an old-time prison uniform. At the waist where the shirt should start, it appears to be open. The unbuttoned fabric in the same prison stripes shows off a toned torso up to a neck, nasty red mark around it almost looking like an accessory. 

The reveal continues upwards, revealing a creepily wide grin plastered on a handsome face. Two intense and insanely dark eyes are looking at Hongjoong from the edge of black bangs that go with a chin-length black mane. The grin is incredibly unsettling, and Hongjoong might be nearing madness, but he can swear one side of it as if glitches, stretching the man’s face further in an inhuman expression as if there is a static on his face.

The man squats down on the flower, his weight making it shake lightly. He doesn’t stop smiling even for a second, and the more time passes, the more creepy it becomes. Even the two deep dimples in his cheeks do not help. “Boo!” he suddenly exclaims loudly, and Hongjoong actually jumps a little and loses the balance on his arms and falls flat on his back on the toned blue sand. The man bursts out in loud, high-pitched laughter to the point he holds his stomach. “You are hilarious!” he yells between shouts of laughter. The man goes as far as wiping away fake tears from his eyes before sliding off the bellflower. 

With marvelous agility, he lands on the sand, the shackle around his ankle ringing in the air. There’s undeniable grace in his movement as he saunters over to Hongjoong still sitting on the ground. “San,” he reaches out his hand both for a greeting and to help Hongjoong stand up. Hesitantly he takes the offered hand and allows to be pulled to his feet.

“Hongjoong,” he returns the introduction and sweeps of the bluish-grey dust from his pants and back. The eerie grin has not left the mans’ features even now, and there is still this odd glitch, pulling it up by the corners once in a while, and if before Hongjoong could say it is the light playing tricks up close he can’t do so.

“I know who you are,” San replies cheerfully and keeps his grip on HongJoong’s hand. “I know you very well,” he leans closer, and his smile stretches wider to his ears, skin ripping and revealing endless rows of teeth, his eyes gleaming red. Hongjoong’s first instinct is to move, to get away, but San is holding onto his wrist and not letting go. “And I bet you know me too,” San speaks through the terrifying smile, hissing a little. His face blurs out like the bushes in the forest for a second, and it is back to his previous features with the same large smile.

“I don’t know you all!” Hongjoong retorts past the tremble in his lower lip from whatever he just saw. San lets out another loud laugh and lets go of Hongjoong’s wrist.

“Exactly!” San exclaims and turns around on his heel, the shackle ringing. He pushes his hands in the pockets of his tattered pants and begins to walk down the road Jongho ran off on, and Hongjoong should take. Only when he is good ten steps away, he turns to Hongjoong. “Are you coming?”

“Why should I follow you?” Hongjoong dares to yell out, but his voice bounces around the bushes and trees and hits him over the head as an intense echo. None of San’s words echoed like this, and it is yet another odd thing to add on top of the extremely long list of oddities displayed in this place.

“Isn’t this the road you are taking anyway? Don’t you have to get somewhere?” San asks through a toothed smile. “I am just going the same direction,” he adds, and maybe it is the smile or the tone of his voice, but Hongjoong doesn’t believe his motivation. But he is right - it is the direction he has to take anyway.

Hesitantly, Hongjoong catches up with San, and they continue down the road together. The shackle makes noise with every step San take, the wide grin on his face, hands in his pockets as he leads the way by one step. The glitch still pulls at his features once in a while, but the terrifying ‘smile’ has gladly not returned. The scenery on either side of them has not changed much - it’s just the gigantic trees, blurred bushes, and toxic looking flowers and mushrooms. If not the light color variations, Hongjoong could swear they have been walking on the spot this entire time.

A change comes to their right with a small path that twirls between trees. Oddly normal-sized mushrooms in fluorescent yellow grow by its sides leading the way. Without a word, San takes the turn and begins to walk down the small pathway even though the road continues forward. “Let’s quickly step by a friend,” San shouts to Hongjoong, who has stopped at the end of the oddly lit path. He feels like he should continue forward, but walking alongside San made this whole insane experience a bit easier. Something about his presence is indeed very familiar and very safe, and fearing it would fade Hongjoong follows.

They reach a small clearing surrounded by the yellow mushrooms after just a couple of minutes of walking. A long table meant for no less, no more than 16 people is set. There are cakes and candies, cupcakes, and berries in oddly soft pastel tones arranged on three-tier plates in the middle of the table. Several teapots, steaming from their noses, in the same colors of muted pink and green are standing between the plates, and 16 teacups with golden edges are placed in front of chairs with beige upholstery. It is such an odd contrast with the deep darkness outside the mushroom circle and the bright colors along the road that Hongjoong can breathe properly for the first time. 

“Guests are here, Seonghwa!” San exclaims loudly, and a man suddenly rushes from the edge of the clearing straight to the table. He’s wearing a patched up tailcoat and a dark west underneath it with a puffed purple tie covering most of his shirt. Black pants end at fancy dress shoes that make the clinking sound even against the grassy flooring. The oddest thing, however, must be the ridiculous top hat on his head. It is covered with trinkets all around the base and tilts oddly to one side, revealing the man’s frizzy blond hair.

“More guests? I didn’t expect more guests!” he freaks out immediately upon seeing Hongjoong. “I wasn’t ready!” he nearly yells, his eyes large and horrified. He takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair, grabbing a handful and pulling on it forcefully. “I didn’t count someone else in. I am not ready! What if there isn't enough tea? or enough cupcakes? Or what if he lkes cake and there isn't enough for everyone?” he keeps murmuring, pulling on his hair, the sound of strands breaking loud enough for HongJoong to hear it.

“It’s alright. I think I must go anyway,” Hongjoong tries to calm the distressed man down, but it seems to do the opposite of helping as he begins to yell even louder.

“No! You mustn’t go! You have to stay! You don’t know what’s waiting for you, so you have to stay! I can handle this all! Don't worry!” Seonghwa starts yelling and grabs Hongjoong by his shoulders. “Sit!” He commands more than insists and pushes Hongjoong towards the table until he has no other option but to sit down in the second chair from the end of the table. Seonghwa throws the top hat back on his head and paces around the clearing, murmuring something under his breath.

San quite casually sits two chairs away from Hongjoong, he throws his feet on the table, the shackle knocking over the fancy tea cup and grabs a handful of candies. He seems completely unfazed by his supposed friend having a breakdown and instead pops candies in his mouth one after another. Hongjoong wants to object to this behavior even though he doesn’t know any of them, but his words get stuck in his throat as the putrid fog begins to settle in the clearing.

Slowly figures appear on the pathway, and the first one is Yeosang, the large-eyed man from under the mushroom. The mist seems to be following him as he makes his way to the table and takes a seat next to San. He slumps forward a little, his frame small and sinking in the sweater as he peers at the empty cup in front of him. Right after him come two tall men, looking very serious and poise to almost a comic extent. They are wearing deep cherry red suits with muted yellow shirts and blueberry blue ties. It is the oddest outfit combination, but their model like frames allow them to pull it off. One of them is icy blond while the other is tangerine orange, and they take the two empty seats between Hongjoong and San.

“So you,” the blond one begins in a deep voice, “decided to come,” the other man continues in an even deeper voice. They both have their heads turned to Hongjoong as they look at him extremely attentive. “Yunho and I didn’t believe you would,” the orange-haired man continues, which indicates the blond is Yunho. “But, also, Mingi and I thought you would,” the blond adds, thus identifying the other man as Mingi. What they are saying makes very little sense, but it is obvious Hongjoong won’t get anything more out of it as they turn their gazes to the front of them at the same time. 

The last one to rush into the clearing is Jongho. He runs a lap around the table during which Hongjoong notices his feet are in an even worse state than before, skin and flesh torn off to the bone at places. How could he still keep going like this? He takes a seat in the last empty chair on that side, but his legs keep moving under the table as he is unable to keep still. Hongjoong hasn’t even noticed how another man with shiny black hair has made his way to the table and taken a seat next to Yeosang. He can’t see his features well, but there is a long red string seemingly hanging from his hairline and several red threads coming out of his white clothing as well.

“Is this all? No more?” Seonghwa calls out as he stops pacing around and rushes to the table. “Is it all of us?” he asks, and Hongjoong looks around the table and then at the distressed man. He has turned away just for a second, but when he looks across the table, a giant mirror is standing on the chair across from him. It has the same golden edge as the fancy cups, but it is decorated with countless small flowers and leaves, giving it a regal feeling.

“It is exactly tea time, and we are all here! Delightful!” Seonghwa calls out once more with a forced laugh and takes a seat next to Hongjoong. The latter looks around the table once more. All those seated have mirrors in front of them, reflecting how they grab onto cakes and sweets, pour tea in their cups, and seemingly enjoy it all. San keeps trying to force a pink icing covered piece of cake first to the man with red strings coming from him, and when it is accepted, he does the same for Yeosang, still with a smile from ear to ear. Jongho is tapping a rhythm on the table with his fingertips, looking into his golden watch once in a while. 

The identically dressed men next to Hongjoong are moving in perfect sync, which is borderline as disturbing as San’s smile. There is something incredibly off-putting about them, something that could be said about all of the people around the table. Even the man in the hat next to Hongjoong is extremely off, his hands shaking as he holds up a cup and reaches for a teapot. They shake to the extent he can’t aim properly at the cup and spills the boiling hot liquid all over his hands.

“Be careful!” Hongjoong exclaims and tries to reach for either the cup or the pot to take them away from Seonghwa. Yet he pulls his hands to the side and continues to pour the scalding liquid on his skin. His hand is turning bright red, white blisters appearing and then popping from the applied heat. It seems as if the teapot is endless, and Hongjoong can just stare blankly as Seoghwa grins maniacally at the damage the hot water does to his skin. 

“This feels good, don’t you think?” he suddenly turns to Hongjoong, and the second he does, the pulsating ache is back on the left side of Hongjoong’s head. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds his head tightly, his elbows hitting the table as he tries to tune out the constant beeping and buzzing in his ears. Barely, he forces his eyes open and looks around the table, and he wishes he hadn’t done so.

Jongho has left, sprinting down the pathway, yelling how he will be late again. Yeosang’s cheeks are filled with candies, and his large eyes are looking for any other he could get in his mouth. The man with the red strings seems to be trying to get something out of the teacup, and for Hongjoong’s horror, it is an eyeball that looks straight at him before the man pops it back in his place. San has climbed onto the table, the skinless grin carved in his features once more as he gluttonously grabs at cakes and cookies, showing them in his large, smiling mouth - jam and sugar glaze dripping down his chin and exposed chest. The two right next to Hongjoong - Yunho and Mingi - seem to be only calm ones, or so it just seems.

“I’d wish to talk to San,” Mingi says quite casually despite the mayhem rising at the table. With no further explanation, he and Yunho grab their heads tightly and pull them off their necks in one swift movement, the sound of ripping flesh and bones terrfying. Blood flows from the large open wound, staining their yellow shirts and blue ties as red as their suits. They turn to each other in the same odd sync and change their heads - Yunho now sitting next to Hongjoong and Mingi closer to San as he wished. Despite the red, sticky liquid seeping from the wound all around Yunho’s neck, he turns his head towards Hongjoong with a smile. As he turns back, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, his head rolls off his shoulder and lands on the flowery tablecloth.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, and his headless body flails its arms above the table until it finds the head. The table is stained red, but no one seems to care. Even the distressed host seems not to care, and Hongjoong turns to him.

Seonghwa’s hands look like they have been boiled - raw, with blisters and leaking pus. He is still shaking, murmuring something under his breath which Hongjoong doesn’t want to understand. In horror, he looks at the mirrors across the table, and the seconds his eyes manage to look at all of them, he stands up so forcefully, the chair flies backward. He tumbles over it and lands on the ground, staring at the reflections. 

Despite the nightmarish ‘party’ taking place, the reflections are sitting neatly and enjoying the treats and the tea just like they were at the very start. Even Jongho, who isn’t here anymore, has his reflection sipping from the tiny cup. Just like others, Hongjoong’s reflection is joining the afternoon tea despite where Hongjoong is now. Even though his limbs are still heavy, he gets to his feet and rapidly begins walking away.

“Leaving so soon?” San’s voice stops him, and he dares to look back. The man who called him is squatting on the table, the demonic grimace still on his features. Everyone else is looking at him as well, Yunho even holding his head in his hands as it obviously isn’t staying on Mingi’s shoulders well. “Aren’t you having fun with us? Why must you always run?” he asks and Hongjoong has nothing to say. 

“Are you that afraid?” a voice now comes from a different location and doesn’t sound like San or anyone else he has heard before. It reminds more of a distorted version of Hongjoong’s own voice. As he looks at the table, his eyes travel to the mirrors, and his ears instantly begin to ring as he sees the reflections. Every single reflection is now him - in the same outfits the people around the table are wearing, but it is Hongjoong in all reflections. “Who are you afraid of?” the reflection which should be San’s but is yet another Hongjoong in prison stripes asks.

The real Hongjoong, or so he assumes, doesn’t bother and sprints out of the clearing. As he runs, the mushrooms by the edges of the path begin to dim, and he barely manages to reach the main road before they all turn black, and a thick wall of blurred bushes hides the path. He has to hurry. He doesn’t know where but he has to move faster in order to get to… Where is he trying to get to? 

Hongjoong shakes his head and proceeds down the road again. He can swear he still sees the sickeningly flickering grin following him amongst the trees, but he keeps going. If he could, he would run, but it seems that getting away from the mad tea party is all the running he can do at this point. His eyes seem to fog up, and he’s short of breath, his head aching more and more, but stubbornly, he moves forward. Already for a while, he hasn’t seen or heard Jongho and anyone from the clearing, so he assumes this where he is absolutely alone, apart from someone lurking in the trees.

Unexpectedly, the road comes to an end in front of a large, white brick wall. It is at least three Hongjoong’s high, cracked in places and with deep blue wines threading in and around it. “Is this the end?” he breathes out and looks both directions, the wall seemingly endless both ways. “Is this really it?” he repeats and rests his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Do you want it to be the end?” someone asks, and Hongjoong looks up. The man he saw at the tea party but didn’t know the name of is sitting on the very edge of the wall. He is wearing simple, pale grey pants and shirt of the same color, his hair pitch black and in two perfect arches over his forehead. But, oddly enough, there are red strings hanging from random places in his clothing, from his fingers, from his temples - just like at the table.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong straightens his back and looks at him. “Who are you?”

“Just Wooyoung. So no one,” he smiles, his full lips curving in a gentle and pleasant expression. So different from all others Hongjoong has seen while being in this strange place. “You can end here, but you can also decide to finally be on time. It is still possible,” Wooyoung’s words make no sense for Hongjoong, but he has to know what he has been rushing to.

“I want to try and be on time,” he exclaims, but what he doesn’t expect is for Wooyoung to let go of the edge of the wall with a smile on his lips and falls forward. He tries to jump forward and at least try to catch the man, but Wooyoung hits the ground with a loud sound of crashing plates and actually shatters into pieces. From the sound, one would think he is a porcelain figurine tumbling from a shelf, but deep red paints the pale blue sand and splatters on the vines and the white wall. Even more surprisingly, each piece of him is still pulsating and moving, his eyes blinking and broken off hands crawling around and pushing pieces closer together.

“What…” Hongjoong can barely breathe as he sees the bloody mess before him.

“There, next to the heart in the middle, there is a key. Take it and go through the door. You can still be on time, I think,” Wooyoung’s lips move as they are pushed closer to the two eyes by a dismembered hand.

“Can I first help you? At least somehow,” Hongjoong’s hands are shaking just like Seonghwa’s, and the buzzing in his ears is incredibly strong. 

“I can handle it myself. I always do it alone,” Wooyoung replies, and as his lips part, one of his hands reaches inside his mouth and pulls out a large, sharp needle, threaded with a red string. “This is not the first or the last time I’m broken,” he smiles, and for a second Hongjoong stops and looks how the busy hands begin to mend together the scattered pieces on the ground. 

There is nothing he can say or do, so he grabs the golden key lying next to a weakly beating heart, and as soon as he grabs it a door appears in the white wall. Hongjoong takes one last look at Wooyoung on the ground before unlocking the door and walking through it. 

For a second, there is nothing there but darkness until small, electric yellow mushrooms light their way up a narrow path. The path is short and ends with one of the fancy mirrors from the tea party waiting at the end of it. There is nothing else around it apart from the eerie trees and bushes. Is this what Hongjoong was rushing to? He turns around to go back and help Wooyoung, but the door is gone - nothing but the trees behind him - and he no longer has a choice.

Slowly, he walks up to the mirror, and for his surprise, he sees nothing in it. There is no reflection in it despite Hongjoong having one during the tea party. Or did he really have one? Wasn’t it just a blurred mess pretending to have fun? Was it really Hongjoong?

“Almost on time, but always a second too late,” Jongho’s voice surprises him and rings around the air. “I told you to hurry up,” he adds before his face fades out.

“Or you could have just forgotten,” now it’s Yeosang, and the nasty fog starts to rise from the ground once more.

“We knew you would be late,” it’s Yunho who speaks now, followed by Mingi. “But we hoped you would be on time.”

A wide grin appears in the reflection of the mirror, and San steps out of the shadow, fully appearing next to Hongjoong. “Now, look and see the outcome,” he says, and the closer Hongjoong peers into the mirror, the more he wishes to look away, but as he tries to, San grabs the back of his head and forces him to look. 

It is Hongjoong, and it isn’t at the same time. There is a large, deep hole in his forehead on the left side with already dried blood in several layers staining his entire face, his left eye and down his light blue t-shirt and jeans. His knees are turned out of their place, his right arm seemingly broken, and nothing about his look fully reminds him of himself. It started coming back to him.

It was just a regular evening out in the nightclub district, The Rabbit’s Hole being his stop for the evening. He was staying out of trouble, he knew that, but trouble seemed to find him. Nothing more floats back to him apart from a push from his back, to motion of tumbling, something hitting his head and then nothing. Next, he knows he woke up here. But did he truly wake up, or maybe he just fell asleep for a very, very long time?

“Just a few seconds late,” San tsks. “Now you are staying with us. Forever,” the fleshless grin is back, and several pairs of hands emerge from the darkness. A raw, burned one grabs Hongjoong’s left hand while a barely stitched together one holds onto his right. Two pairs of hands grab onto his middle while a sickeningly slim pair wraps around his neck.

“Wait! No! If it’s seconds, then I was on time!” he yells as the hands pull him into the darkness of the forest, he tried to avoid this whole time. “I was on time!” 

“This time, even seconds counted,” Jongho is now standing next to San and observes as Hongjoong is pulled away before stepping back into the shadows. 

“Oh, all the fun we'll have for eternity,” San says cheerfully before walking after Hongjoong. His toothy grin is the last thing that flashes between the trees before everything slowly disappears to black. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanSensei)  
  
  
Commissions [ HERE](https://twitter.com/BeanSensei/status/1219648851457593345)  
  
** OTHER ATEEZ FAN FICTION **  
**||** [ YunSan: Your Light ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19869763) **||** [ YunSan: The Silver Mask ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159272) **||** [ YunSan: The Morning Alarm ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284231) **||** [ YunSan: A Gift ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452566) **||** [ YunSan: Useless Skills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523681) **||** [ YunSan : Cliche ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573070) **||** [ YunSan: The Little Things ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648208) **||** [ YunSan: It All Starts Somewhere ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684025) **||** [ YunSan: Perfect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719539) **||** [ YunSan: Sugar and Spice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758428) **||** [ YunSan: Magnetic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932962) **||** [ JongWoo: Slow Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794587) **||** [ 2Choi: City Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706930) **||** [ 2Choi: Call fo the Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101031) **||** [ SanHwa: Until it Overflows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212610%22) **||** [ SanHwa: Gallows-Birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22255243) **||** [ YunSan : Not a Cliche ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362748) **||**YunSan: White and Red **||** OT8 (San focus): Beneath the Oak Tree **||**YunSan: Untouched 


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